Stacks
by despommes
Summary: His gloved hands sat curled on his knees, stark white against the black of his suit pants. He didn't want to look up, to see the countless floral arrangements and black-clad priest, because that would mean this was real.


This was swimming around in my head for a while. I really liked Lloyd, and I thought there was potential for some depth to his character.

Summary: His gloved hands sat curled on his knees, stark white against the black of his suit pants. He didn't want to look up, to see the countless floral arrangements and black-clad priest, because that would mean this was real.

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**The Apple of Her Eye**

Patrick had never let Lloyd forget that he was older. To their parents, seven years was not long at all, but to a child it made all the difference. Lloyd was never allowed in Patrick's room, his requests for a playmate were all ignored, Patrick's achievements were always waved in front of his face with a smug smile and a daunting "Aren't you proud of me, little brother?" Their mother would gush over him to everyone she knew. Delia Asplund's son was a rising star—he would go on to do great things for the world. And Lloyd? He liked to take the kitchen stove apart.

**The Healer**

He sat with his parents in an eloquent auditorium of the best university in Brittania, clapping politely as figures in black robes and caps crossed a stage to be handed a rolled-up piece of parchment from the head of the board. His mother was beaming, and his father's eyes shone with pride as his brother was called twenty-first in a class of nearly two thousand people, graduating at the top of the class with a master's in neurology. Later that night, during a celebratory dinner, Patrick had looked at him from across the table and asked, "Aren't you proud of me, little brother?" Lloyd gently put down his fork and knife, suddenly finding his flounder not fit to eat. He lifted his head and gave his brother a sham of a smile. "Of course I am."

**The Union**

She had hair like spun gold, eyes like walls of leafy ivory and skin like golden sand baking under the sun. She was nice enough, but Lloyd didn't find her the least bit interesting. But there was something in the way she held herself, not clinging to his brother like past women had, giggling and blushing. She sat regally upon the parlor sofa, hands clasped in her lap and posture virtually perfect. There was an intelligent glint in her eye as she conversed with their mother, who was smitten with her. Myra Goldsmith was a product of good breeding and an excellent upbringing. But, as pleasant as she was, the next words out of his brother's mouth were enough to make Lloyd choke on his tea. He announced that they were engaged and planned to be married by the end of the year. His mother chattered excitedly about wedding plans, moving to sit beside Myra. Zachary Asplund turned to his younger son, eyes alight. "Lloyd, aren't you happy for your older brother?"

Lloyd set his teacup in its saucer, looking his brother straight in the eyes. He nodded. "Ecstatic."

He had made the mistake of telling Patrick that he planned to tell their parents that very night that after graduation, he planned on joining the Brittanian military.

**The Child**

In the middle of the night, he was torn from his work by a shrieking cell phone. It was his mother. He considered ignoring the call, but an urging look from his research partner, Cecile Croomy, convinced him otherwise. His mother told him, quite breathlessly, to hurry to the hospital and see his niece. He muttered that he'd try to get away from his work and snapped the phone shut. He turned back to his computer, but received another stern look from Cecile. With a roll of his eyes and a sigh, he closed his computer, tucked it under his arm, and got up to leave. His brother told him Myra was with child, but that had been ages ago and he hadn't seen either of them since. But upon entering the large hospital room, still in his lab coat, his mother, beaming, gently placed a small, blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms, saying to him that this was his new niece, Victoria. He hardly heard her. All he was able to do was stare at the child, mouth open slightly as a pair of tiny, powdery blue eyes gazed up at him, exactly like his brothers eyes—exactly like his eyes. He felt his heart shiver in his ribcage as warmth radiated from the little girl to his chest. He didn't notice his mother's loving eyes, looking at him as he looked at Victoria, her little fingers wrapped around his bigger index finger. For the first time in years, Delia saw a real, true smile on her youngest son's face.

**The Resemblance**

Victoria looked exactly like his brother, who looked exactly like their father. She had fair, sensitive skin that both Patrick and Lloyd shared. Her hair was thick, wavy, and coal-colored, just like her father's hair and her grandfather's. Her eyes were outstanding. They were big, rimmed with thick black lashes, and such a bright, periwinkle blue that shone in any light and sparkled like topaz. She was a bright contrast to her mother's exotically golden-bronze skin, viridian eyes and yellow ringlets of hair. She was a mirror image of her father when he was a child; still, Lloyd loved her with his whole self. He spoiled her ruthlessly at any chance he could, bringing her new dollies and teddy bears every visit. On her first birthday, Myra and his mother held a robust party, sending invitations to every family member, hiring a professional decorator and planner, even an expert cake artist to sculpt a cake that would take a person's breath away. On celebration day, Victoria ran through a sea of brightly colored balloons that covered the wide expanse of the back garden. She hurried to Lloyd on her wobbly, newly discovered legs, a stargazer lily tucked behind one ear. He picked her up, allowed her little arms to wrap around his neck and kissed her cheek, telling her something vague about the grand present he had gotten her. She giggled and rested her head on his shoulder, a wide grin on her face.

**The Gasp for Air**

Lloyd had convinced Myra, who had convinced her husband, to let Victoria spend one month of the summer with Cecile and him, in the flat/laboratory/mechanics hangar he shared with her, courtesy of the Special Division of the military that funded and supported their research and development. Victoria was four years old, with long curls of ebony hair and a tiny body that, despite all of her mother's efforts, just didn't retain body fat like the bodies of other children her age. He held her little hand as he reintroduced her to Cecile, who smiled and spoke softly to her. She spent her days with her uncle Lloyd and Miss Cecile, listening to their stories of the things they built and people they met, and she spent her nights curled up in Lloyd's lap, gazing at the whatever he was looking over, be it blueprints, journal articles, machinery designs, until she fell asleep with the new stuffed kitten he gave her the day she arrived. One evening though, after dinner, she had come to him in his lab, wheezing and gasping for air and clutching at her throat. He'd screamed for Cecile, opening his niece's mouth and looking for anything she might have swallowed, only to feel her muscles clench and contract as her lungs desperately tried to take in air. She started to shake, so he lifted her into his arms and yelled at Cecile to follow him to the car and go with him to the hospital. A doctor told him Victoria had a severe asthma attack. Lloyd told him that she didn't have asthma, and he was informed that it developed in children around that particular age. He swallowed thickly and squeezed her little hand, wondering how Patrick would ever let him come near his daughter again.

**The Outcast**

On his twenty-sixth birthday, Lloyd was invited to his brother's house for a small celebration. He hadn't planned on doing anything for his birthday, but Myra had insisted and told him that Victoria would be disappointed if he declined. And he just couldn't have that at all. When he arrived, he shook his brother's hand and the four of them had tea. Victoria sat next to him on the sofa, chattering to him about her schoolwork. She was eight years old and found none of it challenging. Her teachers had even talked to her parents about skipping a grade level. Later, after pastry dishes had been cleared and Myra and Patrick left to attend to their own affairs, Lloyd sat with Victoria curled up to his side and asked her about her friends at school. He was shocked when she said that she didn't have any. No one at her school liked her; she was ignored and pushed aside when it came to classroom activities. His brow was set with a frown. Reassuringly, he put an arm around her shoulders. He told her she was a wonderful person, and that her classmates were unlucky not to know how much of an interesting, intelligent, beautiful girl she was. She only sighed, nuzzling her face into his newest lab coat.

**The Fortune Teller**

When he was thirty, Lloyd had met a young, Indian scientist by the name of Lakshata. She, part of an Indian research team, had collaborated with a Brittanian division on a project involving a fourth generation Knightmare frame. Lloyd had just happened to be part of that division. He realized after working with her that she could be an asset to his own team, which at the moment only included Cecile and himself. He proposed an offer to her, and was genuinely surprised when she accepted. She quit her current position and was hastily welcomed to the Brittanian division.

That summer, Victoria came to stay with him, just like she did every summer. Cecile, when helping her unpack, asked her what she thought of Lakshata. Victoria hesitated in her answer. When she finally did speak, she said that she didn't think the Indian woman's intentions were pure. She could tell her uncle had taken a liking to her almost instantly, and it worried her. Lloyd's heart was a strange thing that only a select few seemed to understand, those few being Cecile, Victoria, and his own mother. If this Lakshata woman decided to toy with him, it could very well cut him off from his own heart. Victoria loved her uncle dearly, and the last thing she wanted was to see a woman hurt him.

When Lakshata abandoned Lloyd and Cecile only a few months later, taking with her some of their crucial and newest machinery designs, he slammed the back of his head against the wall, cursing himself for falling for the evil woman. Victoria simply held his hand and kissed his cheek. She told him that she loved him, and that was enough to ease the pain.

**The Introduction**

When Suzaku Kururugi was told that Lloyd had a sixteen-year-old niece who would be visiting during her school holiday, he had expected a proper young lady dressed in silks and lace with a voice like diamonds, who would lift her nose at him and his heritage. He did not expect a, awkwardly lanky, pale girl to drop her bags and give him a warm hug, saying that she'd heard all about him and what a brilliant devicer he was. He didn't have time to respond to her embrace at all. She quickly pulled away, powdery eyes sparkling up at him—she was a good seven inches shorter than he was. He gave a nervous smile and looked at Cecile, who simply grinned and picked up the girl's suitcases. Lloyd called to her, talking excitedly about how he wanted to show her what he had been working on the last time she was here. Eyes lighting up immediately, her attention left Suzaku and she ran to her uncle's side.

**The Prodigy**

That summer, Victoria delved into Lloyd's past research, reading his logs and theses late into the night. Two years earlier, she had taken an advanced physics course in school and instantly fallen in love with any type of science she heard of. In a mere month, she had read her father's entire library of medical journals and textbooks. During the time she spent with Lloyd, she asked him if he would explain to her a basic shield system for a Knightmare frame. He gladly agreed to, pulling out designs and statistics sheets from past experiments, telling her about all the different materials used to power the shields and the energies required to create a more impenetrable force field. She drank in every word. Whenever Suzaku came in after school, she left her work to sit with him while Lloyd and Cecile worked on Lancelot, discussed theories, or just simply argued with each other about petty matters. He would sit and listen to her chatter on about what she'd worked on that day or share some of her memories of past summers with her uncle, and she would help him with his homework when he had difficulty with some of it. They became friends, and when Lloyd saw them talking, he could see a sparkle in Victoria's eyes that had never been there before; it was a special one, that only Suzaku could induce. He smiled to himself as he watched them in secret, thinking about how much she had grown up. A week before she left, she showed him a small model of a shield system she had designed herself. It worked remarkably. He was so proud of her, he could hardly contain himself. He threw his arms around her, singing praises and dancing around the room while Suzaku and Cecile watched with bewildered expressions on their faces. When she left, she hugged all three of them, placing a kiss on Lloyd's cheek and a promise that she'd be back next summer to see the new float system he was working on. He watched her board the plane with a heart that was swollen with pride and hopefulness.

**The Disaster**

A few months after Victoria returned home, her parents had left one night to see a ballet. She had declined from going; she hated the ballet. An electrician had been there that day, checking and replacing the fuses in the west wing of the home, the room Victoria's study was in. She had been there, filling out university applications to send off at the end of the next school term. She'd turned on a desk lamp, which had proved too much for an ill-repaired fuse. It sent out a spark and the entire fuse-box had imploded, short-circuiting nearly every electrical socket in that half of the house. It set fire to the entire west wing, leaving Victoria trapped in her study. At once, the smoke alarms set off a signal to the nearest fire department. They managed to get into the mansion and search it for inhabitants, and one of the officers found Victoria, sprawled across the carpet of her study with an empty inhaler in her hand. He got her out of the house alive, but they ambulance outside simply couldn't keep the massive asthma attack under control. Both of her lungs had seized up and couldn't exhale the smoke filled air or draw in any fresh oxygen. The officer that carried her out into the night took off his hat, bowed his head, and said a silent prayer for the poor girl.

**The Breaking**

Lloyd was sitting on her bed, clutching the battered and weathered kitten with the pink ribbon around its neck. Its scruffy synthetic fur was spotted with a few of his tears—the rims of his glasses had caught the rest. He couldn't feel his heart beating, all he could feel was a horrible numbness that started at his chest and slowly spread throughout all his limbs, making him shudder. The room was decorated in soft yellows, pale greens, and even lighter blues, all her favorite colors. But now, each time his eyes fell on them it was another violent shiver so he just kept them closed. With all the strength he could muster, he stood and left the room, his feet guiding him back to the room he had been in when his phone first started to ring. Suzaku and Cecile looked at him strangely, noticing the white, stuffed kitten in his shaking fingers and the way he held it to his heart. Suddenly, he let out a miserable cry and fell to his knees. Tears began to fall more quickly than he could keep track of. All he could do was hold the kitten to his heart and sob like a child. Cecile moved to kneel next to him on the floor, frantically asking what was wrong. He simply couldn't answer her. He couldn't stop the screams coming from his mouth as the horror of it all hit him. Suzaku stared in shock as he watched Lloyd, normally so nonchalant and uncaring, suddenly very human and very broken. Cecile, giving up on an answer from him, pulled him into her arms and allowed him to wail into the shoulder of her uniform, but she knew that no amount of comforting would ever bring him back from whatever had happened.

**The Rain**

On a stormy day, Lloyd left his parents' home with Cecile, in her best black dress-suit. She wore a matching hat with a spotted black veil that was thrown over her face. Lloyd didn't even acknowledge her as she climbed into the limousine beside him. They rode to the chapel alone, in silence as rain spotted the car windows. While his head was turned to the window, watching the world pass by in a wet, grey blur, he felt her fingers slip into his hand and he gave them a desperate squeeze. The church was crowded with people dressed exactly like they were, in the color of morning and wearing sad expressions. He walked quickly and Cecile had to jog in her heels to keep up with him. Inside the chapel, the pews were filling up but the ones reserved for family were roped off. He could see his mother and father—his mother was dabbing at her flooded eyes with a black handkerchief and his father was staring forward, eyes shining with unshed tears. His brother and sister-in-law were at the casket. He could see Myra's entire body shaking as she caressed her daughter's cold face and Patrick's arm around his wife as he gently held his daughter's hand. Lloyd's mouth was set in a grim line as he sat in his own pew. Cecile was next to him, her hand gently resting on his shoulder. Soon after, Patrick and Myra sat, and the murmuring crowd grew quiet. His face was hard and cold and it was turned to the floor of the chapel. His gloved hands sat curled on his knees, stark white against the black of his suit pants. He didn't want to look up, to see the countless floral arrangements and black-clad priest, because that would mean this was real. Afterwards, he stood and followed his brother to the casket-side. After listening to Myra's sobs and cries and his brother's attempts at holding back tears, he found himself standing at Victoria's side, gazing at her beautiful, pale face. She looked like she was only asleep, eyes closed peacefully and hands clasped over the breast of the pretty yellow dress she wore. He felt cold tears on his face and he gently leaned over the coffin, placing a kiss to each of her eyelids, and one to her forehead. He whispered that he loved her more than any other girl in the world, that she would always have his heart and that he would think of her for the rest of his life.

Later, as he placed a yellow rose on the white, marble coffin and stood back to watch both of them disappear into the Earth, he remembered a beautiful baby girl, flowers all in her hair, playing in a sea of red, yellow, and purple balloons with sparkling topaz eyes and a smile that made the day brighter.

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How sad was this?!

I bet most of you thought it would have a happy ending. Ha!

Plz review.


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